“It’s the only prudent thing to do,” returned Mrs. Smith. “Jersey mosquitoes are really more than a joke, but if you have this wire cage to get into you can defy them. You can see that at the end of the terrace opposite the dining room our cage covers the whole of the floor, while up at this end only a part is wired in. In the evening when the buzzers are buzzing we can take shelter behind the screen, but in the daytime we can sit outside as we’re doing now.”
“Are you going to glass it in winter? I see you have a radiator.”
“There are to be long glass sashes that fit into the same grooves that hold the screens now. The open fire will take off the chill on autumn mornings and the radiator ought to keep us warm even when the snow is banked against the glass.”
“With palms and rubber plants and rugs and wicker chairs and tables—I suppose you’ll have wicker?” Mrs. Morton interrupted herself to inquire of her sister-in-law.
“Yes, wicker, but we haven’t decided between brown or green,” and Mrs. Smith turned appealingly to Miss Graham.
“Neither, I should say. Don’t you think a dull dark red, a mahogany red—would be pretty with this brick floor?”
“And against the concrete wall. I do; and it ought not to be hard to find rugs with dull reds and greens that will draw all those earthy, autumnal shades together.”
“You might have one of those swinging settees hanging by chains from the ceiling.”
“Dorothy would enjoy that.”
“So would we,” interposed Ethel Brown. “I seem to see myself perching on it, waving my lemonade cup.”